


Who Showers at 3 AM?

by Couchthief



Category: Percy Jackson & the Olympians: The Lightning Thief (2010), Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst, Future, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 21:03:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3951673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Couchthief/pseuds/Couchthief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nico, haunted by memories of his past, often find himself washing away the feelings in a shower i the early hours of the morning. His neighbor, often awoken by the sound of the shower, gets fed up one night and goes to yell at him. Angst. Oneshot unless I'm coerced to continue</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who Showers at 3 AM?

**Author's Note:**

> This is really angsty. Just a warning to all of you wonderful beings.

It's 2 AM. The clock on my wall is ticking down the seconds, and yet again, I cannot find sleep. I listen to the ticking, the never ending click of the clock on my wall. I swear, its going to drive me mad, that sound.  
I close my eyes, trying to sleep. But, as always, the images well up just behind my eyelids. Tonight, it's been a pair of sea green eyes. They are sad, filled with grief. Percy, his head tilted down, looking at me with the most sad eyes as he tells me Bianca won't return. Those eyes... the same eyes I had the mistake of falling in love with.  
My own black eyes fly open. I can't. Once again, I push myself out of bed. I have to find a way to get rid of this choking feeling in my chest, of the child in me fighting to be free, to cry and mourn. It's been seven years since that day, I am nineteen years old. I should be able to move on by now, right?  
But no. There is still a part of me that is stuck as that small boy, that boy who lost everything to a boy who couldn't love me back. I sigh, and even to my ears the sound is old, aged beyond nineteen years. I grab my towel and walk to the bathroom, turning on the light and the shower.  
As I let the water warm up I take a long look at myself in the mirror. Despite a slightly scruffy chin, a much taller but still thin build, an older look about me I still see that damned boy I was. I see him in the dark circles beneath my eyes, in the pallor of my skin and the unkempt hair, in the deadness of my eyes. Staring at myself, I understand why children cling to their mothers when I pass. I look like some cold hearted criminal. My hair is messy and curly, with a close shaved undercut. I have pierced my left ear three times in the cartilage, and twice in the lobe, all sporting dark hoops. My right ear has two in the cartilage and one in the lobe, also adorned in dark hoops. I usually wear blacks or greys to add to the effect. And there is the addition that I am literally the son of Hades. Death rolls off me in waves.  
Sometimes I find myself envious of my sister, Hazel. She, too, is a child of the underworld. Only she was borne of Pluto. Hazel's gifts went in line with the greedy, rich part of Pluto. Where I am a child of Death, she is a child of Greed. Her cursed jewels may have caused her many problems, but still. The weight of the dead is a great one indeed.  
I have already removed my shirt when a strange pounding draws my attention out of the bathroom. I reach over and turn off the water, listening. There it is. Someone is knocking, no, pounding on my door.  
It's 2:15 am. Who the hell could it be at the hour. Carefully, slowly, I make my way to the door of my apartment. Then I open the door.  
Behind it is a tall blonde man, even taller than me. His thin eyebrows are pulled down in a glare, and his blue eyes are NOT happy. His medium length wavy hair is messy and poofy, as if he'd been sleeping. He's got his arms crossed over his chest.  
"You." Is all he says, looking my in the eye and glaring.  
"What?" I manage, confused and startled by the appearance of the stranger. He's glaring at me, but honestly he's too cute to pull it off.  
"You need to go the hell to sleep." He says. I raise my eyebrows, surprised at his boldness.  
"I was asleep." I say, squinting at him.  
"No you weren't. You never are. I can HEAR you showering every night at 3 am, idiot! Go to sleep!" He's yelling at me now, seemingly bothered that I don't sleep. i'm not sure how to respond.  
"You...." I start, but Will cuts me off.  
"Who the hell showers at 3 am! It's mad, I tell you! Don't you have things to do tomorrow!? Why don't you sleep!? You have to sleep!" He's yelling more.  
"Shush! You'll wake the entire complex! Here- Come in if you want to yell more." I say, stepping aside to let this very grumpy man inside. He just glares and shoves past me- even though there's plenty of space. I close the door behind me and flip on the light, turning to him. I'm about to ask him what his problem is, anyways, when I notice he's staring at my chest. My exposed- and scarred- chest. I open my mouth to speak, though I have no clue what I'll say, when he looks up at me with a softer expression.  
"You have to sleep." He says, his tone determined. "I'm a doctor. If you don't sleep you won't be healthy at all." His eyes are on mine, but can sense he's also taking a gauge of the bags under my eyes.  
His tone is caring, so caring I'm set back for a moment. He almost sounds like Bianca. "What's it to you, anyways?" I snarl on instinct. The man stares at me, and somehow I feel he can see right through me. I feel as though he is picking apart who I am just from what I say. I don't like how observant those eyes are, I don't like how warm they are, how soft, how... familiar. His eyes are light blue, like the sky during the sunrise, but they remind me of a dark brown pair. The warmth in them reminds me of another. Of Bianca, my lost sister.  
"Why don't you sleep?" He asks, boldly ignoring my question. His voice is gentle now, soft and concerned even. I cross my arms over my chest, but i'm not uncomfortable. I'm scared of how much I want to give in right now. How much I want to fall into this man's warm blue eyes, to lose myself for just one night in his voice. I don't even know his name, but his eyes are so familiar.  
"You should go." It takes all I have to keep my voice steady, controlled. I know it sounds cold, apathetic, but it's all I can manage. Still, the man doesn't move, staring at me. He's studying me, I know.  
Suddenly I feel as though he can see the boy inside me. The boy curled up in a ball, crying his eyes out all alone. The pitiful creature hidden inside my chest. I want to hide it from him. I feel vulnerable, I feel weak, I feel rooted to my spot. I'm not sure if I should run, or if i should fall and weep. So I do neither, I just stare at him, keeping my face a mask of blankness, hoping the charade won't break.  
"Why don't you sleep?" He repeats, coming closer, standing just a bit away from me and reaching, reaching for my shoulder. I flinch away from his touch, knowing that it will shatter this face I've put on. But he persists, touching my shoulder gently. His fingers are so warm against my cold skin, and for a second, just a second, i hold it together.  
Then my hands are shaking. Then my body is shaking under the weight of a thousand sobs never uttered. Then I'm staring at my feet, shaking, hands balled up into white knuckled fists, fingernails biting into my palms.  
Then suddenly, I'm sobbing. My knees give out and for an instant, I'm falling. But strong arms wrap around me, guide me to the floor, hold me gently but firmly as an uncontrollable sob rips through me, coming out violently somewhere between a scream and a growl.  
I curl around the man, shaking and sobbing, crying for all I've lost and all I've loved, for all I've seen and all I've been. Distantly, I feel him petting my hair gently. I hear him whispering that it's okay, it's okay to cry, it's okay.  
"You're not alone," He says, and I can't stop the ensuing sob. Not alone.  
I'm not sure how long he holds me, how long I cry. But by the time I quiet down my head aches distantly, and my sinuses are stuffed. I pull away and he offers me a tissue, which I take gratefully.  
"I... I'm Will, by the way. I live right next to you." He says, staring at his lap.  
I look at him a long moment. Will. "I'm Nico." I say, and he glances up at me.  
"I've heard you crying before, through the thin walls. I you ever... Don't want to be alone... I'm right over there." He points to the wall to the left, and I nod gratefully.  
"Thank you." I say, and Will smiles a bit at me. Surprisingly, I feel my lips curl into a smile back.  
"Anytime, Nico." He says, then stands. "it's late. Will you go to sleep?"  
"Yes." I respond immediately. after crying my eyes out, I feel exhausted. And another odd feeling I haven't categorized yet. Will nods and pulls me up with him.  
"Good." He says, giving me another smile before leaving.  
As I watch him go, I realize what the feeling is. It's a new lightness in my chest. The weight isn't completely gone, no, but it has lessened. I lay in bed that night, and find comfort in the thought that just through the wall, I have a friend.  
Then, I slip off into the most peaceful sleep i've had in quite some time.


End file.
